


Come Let Me Love You (And Then Colour Me In)

by allineedisaquill



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: (Thomas also makes a brief appearance), Bisexual Pat (Ghosts TV 2019), Canon Gay Character, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Secret Crush, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 07:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allineedisaquill/pseuds/allineedisaquill
Summary: “It doesn’t altogether surprise Pat that they’ve caught the Captain’s eye, though; subtlety is not his strong suit when it comes to this kind of thing.Two men - and rather dashing ones at that - are holding each other close as they dance.“Oh,” Pat says quietly on a breath.When he looks for the Captain again, he’s just in time to catch him leaving.”A concerned Pat - who happens to secretly harbour feelings for the Captain - follows him after he catches him looking sad at the sight of two men dancing together. An emotional exchange unfolds that may hold more than either bargain for.





	Come Let Me Love You (And Then Colour Me In)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather tender, emotional piece I've been working on for a while. Sharing it is like baring part of me. Enjoy it.

For once, the walls of Button House hold more life than death.

Pat marvels from a corner at the charity ball taking place, watching curiously as Alison and Mike do their best to mingle and chatter with their guests while they supply them with flutes of champagne and generous nibbles. It’s all accompanied by a steady stream of elegant piano music drifting through the ballroom, where pairs take to the centre to waltz across the wooden floor. In the very apt setting, it’s almost like stepping back in time.

“Wow,” he says, shoving his spectacles up his face as he surveys the couples in pretty dresses and sharp suits who whirl by. “It’s great, innit?” 

Thomas sniffs from beside him, arms held around himself. “This? This is nothing compared to the lavish festivities held back in my day. They would put this charade to shame,” he scoffs before skulking away.

Pat tuts at his melodrama but quickly forgets it, for the whole affair makes a lovely change, he thinks. A welcome one from the empty expanse of the house he’s gotten used to over the years. It’s good to hear laughter, music, _ life_. He knows he’s unseen and unheard, invisible to almost everyone, but it’s the happiest he’s been since he had the chance to see his family and new grandson and he takes the time to bask in the atmosphere. He hums along to the music and lets his fingers sway in the air as he does.

His face scrunches a little when his eyes land on the Captain from across the room. 

The man is stood far back to the wall, his swagger stick held tightly between two hands. He watches the merriment with a haunted expression, lips a thin line, and the crease between his brows is more prominent than usual. This detail strikes Pat in his chest; the Captain always looks handsome no matter his mood, but smiles suit him best and Pat prefers that line ironed out entirely. It’s not a sight he’s often treated to, however, and it’s a damn shame.

He seems focused, attentive, gaze present and closely following _ something_. It takes Pat a minute to follow his line of sight but when he does, he sees a particular couple that he hadn’t paid much attention to before. It doesn’t altogether surprise Pat that they’ve caught the Captain’s eye, though; subtlety is not his strong suit when it comes to this kind of thing.

Two men - and rather dashing ones at that - are holding each other close as they dance. 

“Oh,” Pat says quietly on a breath.

When he looks for the Captain again, he’s just in time to catch him leaving. 

Fretting, Pat hurries after him, following him into the empty library where he hovers in the doorway, unsure if he should step through as he observes the Captain sitting on the sofa. His back is straight with the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes and it makes Pat nervously worry at the bottom of his necker for a moment.

Pat feels as though he’s intruding on a private moment of vulnerability, acutely aware of how guarded the Captain usually is. He has a preference for privacy, not often choosing to bestow his fellow ghosts with his feelings and instead chastising them all for being too soft. It’s ironic, then, how very uncharacteristically soft the Captain looks at that moment, the golden lamplight of the library warming his grey hair and haloing his usually sharp silhouette in a gentle bathing of yellow-orange.

“Everything okay?” Pat opts to ask eventually, voice too high where he tries to keep it light. 

The Captain’s head snaps up sharply and those blue eyes fix Pat with a scrutinising stare, assessing the reasoning for his presence. When he finds nothing accusatory or judgemental there, the stiff line of his back hunches just a bit and he looks away again - not quite relaxed, but not quite on edge either.

“Fine,” he says, like the lie comes easily to him. 

How he must take him for a fool. 

Pat wanders in, hands clasped behind his back, and takes a seat beside the older man. 

“Sure about that, are we? It’s just I saw you back there. You looked a bit…” 

The Captain arches a brow at him. “A bit what? Out with it.” 

“Sad,” Pat finishes.

Silence. 

Pat’s sure the Captain will shut him down, put his guard up and block the gentle prying. He’ll probably get up and bolt after a few harsh words and that will be the end of that. 

What he gets instead is a sigh, followed by a quiet and resigned, “Yes.” 

He considers it a win in itself, but he slowly presses on anyway. 

“Want to talk about it? I’m a pretty good listener, or so I’ve been told,” he offers, inclining his head forwards just a bit so he’s looking up at the Captain with a smile.

The Captain looks bemused for a moment. “Is that right?”

Pat offers him a shrug and clasps his hands in his lap. “I’m all ears. Off you go.”

“Hm, well,” the Captain begins, shuffling where he sits and rolling his shoulders. He deliberately does _ not _ look at Pat, choosing instead to stare straight at the wall ahead. “You’re a more modern man than I, Patrick, wouldn’t you say?” He asks. 

He considers this, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I guess so, if we’re being literal.”

The Captain looks impatient. “Not just literally, Patrick. In all senses of the word,” he snaps.

Pat sits up and straightens his scarf despite not needing to. “Yes, then. _ Yes_. At least, I like to think I am. I did some youth counselling for a bit back in my day, and I went to quite a lot of marches for different things. There was women’s rights, education-”

“Yes, yes, I get the picture. As I thought.” 

“Well, you asked,” Pat says meekly, but shuts up. 

The Captain falters, pausing as he takes Pat’s reaction in, and then he coughs and lets out a slow sigh. “What I _ mean_, Pat,” he says, voice the calmest and gentlest Pat has certainly ever heard it, “is that those things mean I can trust you. I can, can I not?”

He catches Pat completely off-guard with the compliment and there’s a sting of something in his chest to hear the other man be so unexpectedly personal with him. 

Cheeks warmed, practically _ glowing_, he replies, “You can.”

“I’ve met enough good men to know one,” the Captain carries on. “It has to be said that your bottomless optimism sometimes errs on the side of irritating and your various clubs created to make this shared experience of limbo feel less like an eternity are mostly pointless and frankly unbearable…” 

Pat gapes, looking affronted. “Well that’s lovely, that is. You were being nice a minute ago.”

The Captain raises both eyebrows this time. “...but nevertheless, I’m astute in my decision to, _ ah_, confide in you, so to speak,” he continues slowly, making a point that he wasn’t finished.

Pat blinks. “Is this something you don’t trust the others with, then?” He asks, because although he could hazard a fairly good guess as to the Captain’s impending confession, he’d prefer not to make judgements if he can help it.

“I’m sure most of the others wouldn’t understand,” the Captain says gravely, lips pursed.

“You could give them a chance,” Pat counters. 

“I’d rather just stick with you, if it’s all the same.” 

Well. He couldn’t possibly object, even if the Captain’s choice of wording makes him flush.

“If you like. Go on, then,” Pat encourages, giving his side a small nudge. The Captain’s body barely sways from it, moulded back into its rigid state, but he doesn’t altogether seem to mind the touch and Pat releases a discrete, relieved breath.

Slow music trickles in from the other room, filling the quick lapse with the beautiful sound, but Pat knows the other man can’t flit around the subject any longer. The Captain knows it too, if his apprehensive look is anything to go by.

“The thing is, you see… I prefer the company of men,” he says, speaking as though the words are like lead in his mouth and he is instantaneously lighter once they’re out, taking a deep breath before he carries on. “Seeing those two through there… They reminded me of so much, so suddenly, that I had to flee - like a _ coward._” 

Pat’s heart aches to hear the self-depreciation, the way that final word is almost spat.

“I don’t think you’re a coward,” he offers quietly, shuffling just a tad closer. 

“No?” The Captain says. “But I _ am_. I was then, and nothing has changed. I was always too afraid, Pat. What kind of soldier does that make me? What kind of _ man_?”

_ How do you even begin to unpack that? _ Pat thinks, fighting the urge to raise his brows and brace himself, to push his glasses up his nose as he ponders a response. He knows he must be more tasteful than that, more tactile and thoughtful after such a difficult, raw outpouring.

“I think,” he starts slowly. “I think we have to forgive ourselves here for whoever we were out there, or whoever we _ weren’t _ \- because we’re still _ here _ aren’t we? I think for as long as that’s the case, we owe it to ourselves to try and find some kind of peace, some happiness. Now I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s worth a try. I once said it was silly of me to suggest talking about your burdens, but even if it didn’t stop Fanny from falling out of her window, I’m sure it still made her feel better. That’s what matters. That’s what we deserve. Including you, Captain.”

The Captain looks at him then, _truly _looks at him, his gaze threatening to become glassy in the aftermath of Pat’s little speech. Pat swallows at the intensity, the flecks of more colour among the blue of his eyes, the crinkles at their corners and that damned worry line between his brows. Pat wishes he could smooth it away. He wishes he could do a lot of things.

“He kept promising me a dance, but we never got that far,” is what the Captain says when he eventually speaks again, that haunted look in his eyes once more and a smile tinged with sadness at his lips. He’s already looked away again. “Typical of him, though I don’t suppose we could very well have danced in public.” He sounds remorseful, but he doesn’t expand on that and Pat doesn’t need him to.

“A dance,” he echoes. “I suppose that didn’t help tonight.”

“Indeed,” the Captain sighs. “I always loved to dance.”

Pat feels, deep in his chest, that that simply won’t do. 

“Well,” he says resolutely, slapping his hands on his thighs before standing. “I’m sure I have two left feet, but we can give it a go if you like.” He extends a hand a bit awkwardly, awaiting an answer from the Captain who meets him with the most dumbstruck expression Pat has ever seen on him.

God, he hopes the idea doesn’t blow up in his face.

The Captain hesitates and turns either way in his seat, looking at every door to check for eavesdroppers and spies. Pat aches at that. 

“It’s just us,” he reassures. “And even if it wasn’t, you don’t need to dance in private anymore. Neither of us do,” he says pointedly, and the Captain’s eyes widen as he catches his drift. “Those days are long gone, I promise you. So come on, up you get. I’ll try my best to lead. I am short though, mind.”

There’s another short pause before the Captain stares deadpan, breaking the look of apprehension clouding his face. “That you are,” he agrees, and then a quieter, “Go on then.” His face says that he can’t quite believe it’s happening, like a boy conspiring with another.

When he takes Pat’s hand, sparks don’t quite fly, but there’s an immediate warmth to the ginger touch that Pat finds absolutely thrilling. It races up his arm and becomes pins and needles in his cheeks, dappling them red.

A sudden wave of self-consciousness rolls over Pat; from all he’s heard and observed, he’s nothing like the kind of man the Captain would be interested in. Yet here they are, meeting in an embrace as they prepare to dance after sharing rather an intimate moment, all things considered. Perhaps it counts for something despite Pat’s doubts, or perhaps the Captain is just humouring his good nature after he’d been kind enough to listen.

Either way, Pat’s heart would be racing had he still got a pulse. He’s glad he doesn’t because he’s definitely sure the Captain would be able to feel it, or even _ hear _it. 

One hand on the small of the Captain’s back and the other clasped in his, Pat begins to lead him with small steps that grow more confident as he matches the pace of the music. They move steadily around the library, bodies pressed close, and Pat’s head becomes rather dizzy at their proximity and the feel of the Captain’s uniform against him. He can smell soap and heavy wool and, despite his various crushes and short-lived boyfriends during his life, he never realised _ just _ how distracting another man could really be.

“Not bad for a man with two left feet,” the Captain says, chest rumbling against him. 

Pat looks up at him through his lashes and smiles, bashful. “Thank you. I might have a few more tricks up my sleeve, if you think you can handle them that is.”

The Captain’s lips pull up with the smudge of a smile, golden light dancing in his eyes, and it’s so _ good _to see him looking so open and happy after everything. “Really?” He asks, a brow arched perfectly. 

“Yep,” Pat nods. 

Either his bottomless optimism is making a show again, or they’re..._flirting. _

_ Could they be? Surely not. _

They spin some more and then the Captain says, “Do show them to me.”

Pat promptly forgets how to function and steps right on the Captain’s foot. 

“Sorry!” Pat says quickly, mortified.

The older man holds his gaze for a second before he simply corrects them and then gives in to Pat’s lead once more, their bodies effortlessly one as they make laps around the cosy space. If they forget to avoid the furniture out of habit, they pass through it anyway.

Pat refuses to let that be the lasting impression of this moment, though, determined to give the Captain a dance he’ll remember - a dance he _ deserves_. He can hardly twirl him, much too short to spin him under his arm, but he can do something else and if the Captain can trust him with his secrets then he can trust himself to pull this off without a hitch. He may not be tall, but he isn’t weak by a long stretch.

As the distant lilt of the piano piece guiding their dance builds to its finish, Pat takes the chance to step with him a few more times before he dips the Captain’s body in his arms. 

The man in his arms gasps even though he isn’t breathing, eyes wide, _ stunned. _

“Well,” the Captain gulps. “That’s certainly a move.” 

“Told you,” Pat says, looking down at him and allowing himself to look a bit pleased, but his face turns sheepish when the Captain’s back produces a creak in protest and he gently lifts him by the waist until he’s standing once more. 

The Captain releases a tiny moan as his back corrects itself with a click.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Probably should have given you some warning.”

“No, no,” the Captain says quickly. “It’s fine. It was..._ good_.”

He realises rather belatedly that his arms are still around the Captain’s middle and that the other man has made zero effort to move out of the hold. He seems content if anything, watching him closely with that same held gaze as before. The line from his brows is gone, Pat silently notes, and there’s that sting of something in his chest again at being the cause.

Pat almost squeaks out, “It was?”

“Yes,” the Captain insists. “Very good. You did promise me _ moves_, after all.”

“I did,” he says slowly, and the Captain hums along. “Although…” 

“Although?”

“Well I suppose there is one more.”

They’re simply looking at each other one moment until their faces begin to draw together, not a strong pull of magnets but like two shy things unsure if the other is going to run. 

Pat knows when their lips meet, it’s the closest to heaven he’ll ever get - if there even _ is _ such a place. He can’t think of that though, not when the Captain is sighing against his mouth and pressing closer. The heat of his palm at the base of his spine stirs him, has him rolling another kiss into the next and then the next after that, too. It’s simple and honest and they hold each other just a bit tighter; it’s been too long since they’ve had anything like this.

Pat had forgotten the tickle of facial hair during a kiss, that gentle burn as they angle it just right and melt closer still, but he’s never been happier to be reminded of it. He lets a hand slide up the side of the Captain’s uniform, skim across the pips at one shoulder until he can grasp the base of his neck and pull him in. The feel of close-cropped hair beneath his fingers is a wonder and he drags his thumb there slowly, pleased at the rumble of a moan it pulls from the other man as he reluctantly parts. 

The Captain brings their foreheads together, chest heaving like he’s forgotten he doesn’t need to breathe. Pat muses that it’s the opposite of breathlessness for a ghost; to make another so affected that they _ begin _ to respire instead of forgetting how to. Quite beautiful or entirely nonsense, Pat doesn’t know the difference in his kiss-addled brain.

“Okay?” Pat asks, hoping that all of this is. He’s sure he’d forgive him if it was just a spur of the moment thing, a momentary need for some closeness, but he’d be lying to himself if he said that he wouldn’t be disappointed and just the tiniest bit heartbroken by it.

“Yes,” the Captain repeats, smoothing a large, warm hand up Pat’s back. “I find I cannot say that I haven’t thought about this - _ wondered_. I presume I’m not alone in that, now.”

Pat’s afraid to admit just how long he had thought this was beyond his highest hopes. 

“No, you’re not alone,” he agrees, eyes round and deep and soft. “Far from it.”

They share smiles that soon melt to gentle understanding and then they’re finding each other again like it’s already second nature, sharing a brief kiss before slotting together like missing pieces of the same puzzle. 

The Captain draws Pat in this time, guides him until he’s fitted neatly under his chin where they can gently sway on the spot to the music. Pat likes the feel of the Captain’s frame bracketing him, how safe it makes him feel. He hasn’t known trust like it in years and it’s a comfort to his bruised heart, welcome and warm.

“This is nice,” he whispers. 

He’s responded in kind with lips pressed to his hair. “Thank you, Pat,” the Captain returns in similarly hushed tones with a slight wobble to his voice.

Pat almost comes up to seek him out but decides against it, choosing instead to let the Captain hold him and have a moment of privacy away from his worried eyes. He’s shared enough for one evening that he thinks they can just enjoy this moment now. 

The walls of Button House may soon hold more death than life once again, but Pat can’t help but feel that amongst the tickling of ivories and a tender embrace, that the balance has tipped ever so slightly in their favour.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos nourish my soul. You can also find me (and my Discord) at [bbcghosts.tumblr.com](https://bbcghosts.tumblr.com/) \- come say hello!
> 
> P.S. Title is taken from Colour Me In by Damien Rice, a song included in [my Pat/Cap Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Hr9dOQrUnE0ECaOPzq0pO?si=lEHEf_hxRRe12xEVRakxDQ).


End file.
